


Saving our Skins

by AyeAyeAye



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: (Referenced) - Freeform, BAMF Doctor (Doctor Who), BAMF River Song, Eleventh Doctor Era, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s04e08 Silence in the Library, F/M, Flashbacks, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gallifrey, Gallifreyan Biology (Doctor Who), Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Doctor (Doctor Who), Quote: Hello Sweetie (Doctor Who), The Doctor (Doctor Who) Needs a Hug, The Doctor (Doctor Who) Whump, chapter three is basically just flirting honestly, honestly these idiots are so cool, they save each other tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:40:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28402611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AyeAyeAye/pseuds/AyeAyeAye
Summary: Five times the Doctor used his special abilities to save them all, and 1 time River used hers.OR: I live and die for river and the doctor saving each other.
Relationships: Eleventh Doctor/River Song, The Doctor/River Song
Comments: 21
Kudos: 90





	1. Respiratory Bypass

**Author's Note:**

> I’ll update every third day, but I’m giving you two chapters today because why not

“No, it’s fine, I just need to—“ The Doctor cut himself off abruptly to push his hand to his temple. He let out a frustrated sound that made River flinch. 

“Doctor,” she began, and he waved a dismissing hand. 

He took a ragged breath. She never called him that. 

“Sorry,” he said. “Not your fault.”

He turned back to the keypad by the door, desperately punching in numbers. 

The same screen flashed again and again. 

ROUTING....... SUPPLY ACCESS DENIED. 

A pause. 

“What are we going to do?”

The Doctor felt his hand slip from the keypad. 

“I don’t know.” 

The words felt strange in his mouth, he vaguely registered. It was almost enough to choke a bitter laugh from him. Focus. 

The water was sloshing around their feet now. 

“Okay,” he began, hoping the false bravado would eventually lead him to a plan. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do. It’s a four hundred metre dash from here to the next entryway. I can’t drain the corridor, and I can’t hack the system, but the original circuitry was never water proofed, so if we wait.... I should be able to get through.”

Yes; that sounded rational, calming. 

River frowned. 

“But there’s no panel in that doorway. We’d have to disable the locking through this keypad before we move.”

Oh, River. The Doctor schooled his face into something resembling confidence. 

“Not quite. You’ll be waiting there, and the second the door will open you go through into the next section. I’ll come through after you.”

“But....” 

“The airlock will prevent us both from going through at the same time anyway. And the panel’s at head-height, not at the ceiling. With this current rate of flow...” he paused to look at the water level, which was sloshing at his mid calf. 

“I’ll have just under ten minutes to get to you.”

He could do this, he could. And he wasn’t going to lose River before he found out who she was. 

“Is now a bad time to ask how strong a swimmer you are?”

“Well,” he said, a small smile spreading across his face, “it’s never killed me before.”

“That is so not reassuring.”

He laughed, quietly, and River rested a hand against his cheek. His blood sang in response. 

“Just don’t die, okay?” 

He flashed another grin. 

“That’s the plan.”

As she waded away, he really, really hoped he got through this. 

He’d always hated drowning. 

The water level rose: thigh height. Hips. Waist. 

He wished River had stayed a little longer, if only for distraction. He’d never been good with waiting, after all. 

His fingers twitched in anticipation. Come on....

The water level lapped gently against the bottom of the keypad. 

The waiting would kill him long before he ran out of air, at this rate. 

REROUTING.... REROUTING... RE... ERROR

_ Finally _ . 

His fingers flew against the keypad. He just had to disable the automatic security system. Should be easy enough now that the backup restoration was failing. 

ERROR. ERROR. ERRROR. ERROR. 

He cursed softly, something he was still getting used to in this body. It took tilting his chin back to hear the words as anything other than a gargle. 

He’d have to wait a little longer, then. 

ERROR. REROUTING... ERROR. SYSTEM FAILURE. 

It took another twenty seconds of fiddling before he heard the confirming beep-beep of the security system’s disablement. 

It was followed by a small surge of water away from him, meaning River had gotten through the airlock. It was one less thing to worry about, and he loosed a relieved breath.

He pushed himself off of the wall, rolling onto his back to suck air from the thin layer against the ceiling. Deep breath, then a plunge underneath into water that wasn’t cold to him, but that he doubted River had appreciated. She reminded him of Amy in that way - always with the Scottish complaints. 

The next time he came up for air, he was met with only the ceiling. 

He sped his swimming a little, wondering how much further down this hallway he had to go. 

He would not die in this corridor. His lungs ached, and it was all too familiar, so he let himself slip into respiratory bypass. 

Pull hard, glide, kick. 

He must be almost there, but it was so dark that he could’ve been at the start again, and he’d be none the wiser. 

He was almost there, right? 

Pull, glide, kick. 

This body had been flung into the pool in his library almost as soon as it had come into existence. 

He knew what he was doing, he could swim this hallway. He just had to keep going, for a little longer. 

(his secondary lungs weren’t starting to burn, it was fine). 

Pull, glide, kick. 

This hallway was longer than he remembered. Perhaps his estimation had been wrong. No, River would’ve yelled that it was longer, back when the water was below their heads. She trusted him wholly, it seemed, and that forced him to trust her. 

His hands slammed into a wall. He felt along it desperately, found the slight dip of the button, and pressed it hard. 

The airlock opened. 

He’d been right, it was barely wide enough to fit his shoulders, and there was a hiss of air there that he chased desperately. 

No, he couldn’t surge upwards, something was stuck - this space was too small. It seemed determined to squeeze anything remaining from his lungs. 

The other door to the airlock slide open, and he fell hard into empty space, the small column of water he’d brought in cascading onto the floor around him. 

He sucked in a breath as River rushed to his side. 

It always felt strange, to reorient himself from bypass to normal breathing. It felt too manual, and he was too aware of his own gasping breaths. 

He almost didn’t notice the aborted jerk of her arm, as if she wanted to reach for him again. 

“I’m never taking you swimming, Sweetie,” River said, voice edged with relieved laughter. He wanted to quip something clever back at her, but he didn’t have the breath to form speech. 

A ragged, feral grin would have to do. 


	2. Sleep Delay

They’d been running from the Shakri for just over 36 hours. 

River woke in the half-light, felt the waves of adrenaline still pulsing through her body, sending little shivers through her too-tight muscles. She was still so tense from their earlier sprint, even with hours to calm down. 

“River?” 

“Sweetie,” she purred back, if only to see the flush staining the Doctor’s cheeks. Oh, she  _ liked _ this - so early in their relationship for him, still bumbling and uncertain and so, so red. 

“River, it’s gaining.”

She knew he’d been awake all this time, eyes scraping across the landscape surrounding them. Exhaustion tugged at her, a tickle at the back of her mind, held off by her training and the precious hours of sleep he’d granted her while he stood guard. 

“Coming,” she replied, and let him pull her to her feet. 

She watched him carefully. They still had to cross several kilometres of desert before they crossed the border of the telepathic shields that had stopped him from calling the TARDIS to them.

His eyes glinted in the half light of dawn, half covered by his hair. She frowned. He barely seemed to notice, didn’t swipe a hand through it to brush it from his eyes. 

Enough. They had to go, she could stare later. 

She tugged on her pack, securing the straps as tight as they would go. Her hand patted instinctively to the holster on her thigh, and he flicked a glance towards it. 

“Enjoying the view?”

“No— I was— the gun, not...” he trailed off, and she smirked at him, but his returning smile was weak. 

“Come on then, Sweetie,” she whispered. He loosed a breath at the dip of her voice. “Time to run.” 

They did, fast and hard, half staggering down the rocky dunes, River kept upright by his careful hands. 

On her back, her arms, grasping her own as he pulled her forwards. 

She let him guide her fully, focused insteadon breathing hard, sucking more air into her lungs. 

Gods, how was he doing this? 

At one point - she wasn’t sure when, not anymore, too busy fighting ingrained instincts and always moving forward - the Shakri gained on them enough that the Doctor took his hand from her back, let her slip slowly to the ground.

She fought to rise, couldn’t. 

She was a bystander again, watching his destruction. 

He heaved deep breaths as he walked towards the Shakri, feet placed evenly on the broken ground. 

“Hello, then,” he eventually said. River saw the tremor in his hand - he would not win this fight. 

“Doctor,” it acknowledged. 

“Where are the rest of you?” 

She knew false bravado when she saw it -she’d spent much of her childhood playing the same game. But him she knew most of all, and it sent a jolt through her when she realised he was afraid. 

He spun in a slow circle, arms flung wide. 

“I thought you travelled in groups.”

The Shakri paused. If River didn’t know better, she’d call it a hesitation. 

“They were destroyed.” 

“So don’t you have something better to do? Don’t you want to go home, grieve?”

Even over the roaring of blood in her ears, through her half consciousness as exhaustion begged her to close her eyes, she recognised it. The tensing of its stance. The slight shift of the right foot. The dead look in its eyes. 

This was a creature with nothing to lose, and it was preparing for an attack.

Her hand itched towards the gun on her thigh. 

The Doctor had such hope in his eyes, such desperation. “We’ve suffered enough, my friend.”

“No,” the Shakri replied, and River didn’t hesitate. 

The first bullet hit it between the eyes, the next two in the chest. 

“River, no!” 

Too late. 

It fell, legs twisting under itself, and River let out a breath.

The Doctor pushed himself over the creature, his body forming the perfect shield between her and it. 

She let the gun fall, heard his pleading whispers.

It had tried to kill them both, and she had stopped it. Simple. 

She’d never regretted anything less. 

She woke to hands on her shoulders, and instinctively brought her knee up into her captor’s stomach. He rolled off of her, and she was trying to crawl away when she recognised him. She wanted to apologise, but her mouth wouldn’t form the words. 

“River, I was getting through, you didn’t have to do that.” Anger lined the words, made them sharp. This was important, she knew, and she fought to stay this side of conscious to listen to him. 

She noticed with panic the blood on his shirt, aligning with his two hearts. 

Oh , she realised. Of course, not his blood.

“Sweetie,” she managed to mumble, and his eyes snapped to hers. 

It was the last thing she saw. 

The third time she rose to consciousness, she was in his arms. 

The swaying of his walking brought her gently from her sleep, so she recognised first the otherworldliness of  _ him _ before she came fully into her body. 

And something else too - the TARDIS. It was a few metres forwards, and he stumbled the last few steps even as she blinked her eyes open. 

He pressed himself against the door, and it came open for him. 

“Hey,” she whispered, and he looked down at her. There was a moment of confusion before he let her feet hit the ground. 

She was suddenly aware of how he pitched forwards, the exhaustion in his every jerking movement, the way he hadn’t even responded to her. 

“Safe?” he asked. It took her a moment to figure it out. 

“Safe,” she assured him, guiding him towards the steps to get around the console. 

“Oh, good,” he replied, then slumped forwards, asleep long before she caught him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was told by River. Whilst most of the chapters have already been written, not all have been finalised.   
> Because of this, I ask:  
> Do you want more from River’s POV?   
> I am but a puppet: you ask, I’ll deliver.   
> Next chapter is fluffier because they were both hurt in this one


	3. Healing Directive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year!  
> Hope y’all enjoy this chapter (and the special today!!)

Oh, that  _ hurt _ . 

“You really like shooting, don’t you,” he mumbled, shaking out his hand. The blast had barely skimmed his knuckles, but the singed skin sent lightning bolts up his arm. 

“They do, sweetie,” River replied, her back crashing into his as she provided much needed cover. “And now would be really helpful if you did, too.”

They both knew he wouldn’t, so he laughed instead, using his sonic to burst the light globes near the worst of their attackers. Slitheen.

This was another dance, like the one they did on the TARDIS, and the higher stakes just made him grin. 

“My love,” River said, the lightest touch of pressure from her spinning them both. “As much as I’m enjoying this, I believe we were finding a way out?”

“Getting bored?”

“Oh, I just have other things I’d rather be doing,” she purred, and he blushed furiously despite the situation. 

He grabbed her hand and pulled her into the next room, slamming the door behind them. The buzz of his sonic told him he’d locked it instinctually. He laughed, again, and she looked at him like he’d hung the stars. 

They sank to the floor, the two of them, and she swept a hand through his hair. It was a familiar feeling to both of them, at this time, and he leaned intrinsically into her. 

She caught the wrist he moved towards her face, holding it above his head.

“River Song,” he whispered, and she was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, and her mouth was so close to his face. 

He darted forwards a little, and their lips connected. Even with his hands pinned above him, he found himself melting into her.  A few seconds of her mouth steadily taking him apart, then she pulled back. 

“Is now a bad time to remind you, Sweetie, of the dozen angry slitheen behind this door?”

He laughed, breathless, still pressed bodily against her until she let go and rolled away with a smirk of her own. 

They stood together, arms brushing in a casual way he was all too aware of, and walked down the hallway. 

“We could just... leave,” she suggested, using her hip to open a doorway.

“You know I would, River, but someone’s got to placate the Slitheen, and, well,” he grinned, voice dropping an octave, “better now than be interrupted later.”

River laughed at him then, and he scowled back. 

“Like a teenager,” she huffed out, and his lips twitched. He couldn’t keep this faux anger long. 

He was so distracted that he only felt the briefest warning twitch against his skull before the door burst open. 

His mind became single-tracked, thinking only of River, too close to the now open doorway. 

For the second time today, he found them pressed against each other and on the ground, except this time he was on top. 

This time he was half twisted away, already surging up to protect her. 

This time, he felt a blade sink in under his ribs. 

Oh. 

He twisted frantically as it slid out, turning already to disarm the Slitheen in front of him. 

River had leapt up, cursing, her gun drawn. 

“You are compromised,” the Slitheen hissed. 

“I’m really not,” he tried, at the same time River said, 

“Maybe, but I’m the one with the gun.”

He internally probed at the wound. It was deep, but it had missed his major internals. The problem was the steady stream of blood which was quickly ruining one of his favourite shirts. 

Focus. 

“Now, fellas, there’s really no need for this,” he drawled. The Slitheen nearest him hissed.

“You are incapacitated. You will soon die. Earth will be open to our reign.”

River opened her mouth, but the Doctor cut her off with a low laugh. He shrugged off his jacket and began untucking his shirt. 

“Now’s probably not the best time, Sweetie,” River said, but she certainly didn’t stop him. He flicked an amused glance at her, and directed his next words back to the Slitheen. 

“You think I’ll die, then. River, what do you think?”

“Just a scratch, my love,” she replied, but he could hear the worry in her voice. “I don’t see it stopping  _ any _ of our plans.”

He pulled up his shirt just enough to show off the wound, bleeding steadily. 

The trick was to do it with a straight face. He took conscious control of the healing processes already hard at work on his internals, trying to repair his arteries and his nicked bypass system. 

He focused, pulled those processes away, stole into scant traces of regenerative energy. 

And he healed his skin. 

It still hurt — the wound still open inside him — and his body warned him to stay still with every step forward he took, but to all outwards appearances, it wasn’t even there. 

“You can’t stop me,” he taunted. “And this planet is protected, don’t you forget it.”

He didn’t relish in the fear that crossed the Slitheen’s face, but it did make it a little easier to stay standing straight. 

He let the oncoming storm flicker into his eyes, and he knew his voice was deathly quiet when he said, “but if you think you can.... then try me.”

There was a moment of silence. 

The Doctor waited. 

“We will retreat,” the Slitheen finally conceded, and the others began lowering their weapons. 

“Yes,” River beamed at them, “I think that’s in everyone’s best interests.”

She placed a steadying hand on his back, but he stayed stock still and face neutral until the Slitheen backed out of the room. 

He felt the harsh zing of the teleports even from here, and knew the Slitheen hadn’t been lying. 

“Well, sweetie,” he began, but he silenced himself when he swayed dangerously forward. 

“You think you’re so hot when you do that,” she muttered, “but I always have to catch you.”

He realised he’d been holding onto all of his healing abilities, clenching them in a tight fist since before the Slitheen had left, to keep up appearances. He eased them away now, let them slip back into a subconscious effect, and River caught him mid stumble as predicted. 

“Well, I was going to end up here anyway,” he said, leaning against her perhaps more than was necessary. 

“We need to get you back to the TARDIS,” she told him. She wasn’t worried - he’d done more whilst masking worse injuries, but it was him, so he knew she wanted to find the Slitheen and probably blast them to little pieces. 

He reached up a hand to rub a thumb against her cheek. 

“Did I mention you look fabulous with that gun?”

She laughed, the sound music to his ears. He did too, even though it hurt him, and they stumbled back to the TARDIS together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised fluff and then realised that he still gets STABBED but like... it’s the Slitheen... it was never going to be serious.
> 
> Also - I made another 11/river fic, feat. Dark doctor and set early in rivers timeline if you wanna check that out!


	4. Timesense

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I really loved this chapter, and then the first half got deleted and I couldn’t recover it. So I spent over an hour trying to reword it exactly as it had been, but it fell apart a little, so sorry about that.  
> Still, it’s longer than others have been, so that’s a plus!

It was too hot in this room, and too dark. It made his skin itch. He wanted to take off his jacket, but it was his armour in this moment, and besides, River was already looking at him with barely masked concern. 

He knew they shouldn’t have come, but it had been so intriguing. A heavily guarded building, a mention of intruders, thousands of dollars of damage, and not a single casualty — it was as if someone had been trying to get his attention.

“We need to get out of here,” Amy was saying. He focused in on the conversation around him.

“But we also have to keep the time stream in mind,” River warned. “We can’t corrupt the events that led us here.” 

“So no shooting,” the Doctor said. River looked at him as if he’d spontaneously grown another head. “It was the absurdity of the situation that made me bring us here. Not one casualty, River.”

“We play it by the article,” Rory agreed, even as River scowled, crossing the room to stand beside the Doctor. 

She slid his hand inside his jacket, and his breath hitched, but she just retrieved his sonic from his inside pocket. 

Amy coughed and gave him a pointed look. 

“Shut up,” he said, and she grinned. 

“Shall we, Sweetie?” River asked him. The buzz of his sonic filled the air, and he took a moment to mentally sift through timelines in his head. The future laid itself out before him like stepping stones, paths tumbling into infinite destruction. Paradoxes, schisms of wrong and safe thrumming for his attention. 

_River, burnt and screaming in the library. Two guards, gunned down in their escape_ \- the paradox of that one churned urgently against his skull.  _Himself and Amy, separated, dragged to—_ the door clicked open, and he slammed himself bodily against it to force it shut again. 

He’d tried to only glimpse into each one, but he’d never been precise with his time sense. It has slammed into him with the full force of disuse. Time pulsed through his entire body now, and he shuddered against the doorframe, eyes squeezed shut. 

“Doctor?” Both Ponds spoke in unison, frustration and confusion evident even behind the roaring in his ears. 

“Sweetie,” River said, more gently, and he opened his eyes. 

“We can’t go through now,” he said. “I can see those paths, they don’t end well.”

This wasn’t working. He was met with two blank faces. Plus River. She was calm and still at his side, steady as a rock. He almost laughed. A rock in a River. 

“Just... if we go now, we’ll be interrupted by the guards, and everything will unravel.”

As if on cue, footfalls sounded outside, accompanied by an indistinct chatter which the Doctor chose to tune out. 

“See? That future, we would’ve been caught.”

He could practically feel their dawning understanding, and he shook his head to clear it. 

“Let’s go,” he said a moment later, and the four of them slid into the corridor, walking briskly for the library. 

At the intersection, the Doctor turned abruptly left. 

Right would take them into recapture, that much was clear. A phantom pain bloomed briefly across his cheekbone. Decidedly not that way, then.

“Doctor, it’s right to the library,” Amy began. 

“Another paradox, or something,” Rory guessed, and the Doctor nodded. Close enough. Probably. He hadn’t followed the timelines enough to see the endings. 

River was silent at his side, unusually so. He almost turned to ask if she was alright, but forced his concentration instead onto his time-sense. 

He wove them through the hallways, sometimes stopping to duck into empty rooms until a guard set walked past. 

“When we cross the fourth doorway on this hall,” he began, talking to all of them, “break into a sprint. Immediately, not before.”

He knew how strange it sounded, but any later and everything would fall apart. It was too much of a strain to hold onto all the timelines in which they sped up on this step, or the next, or the next, so last minute action would have to do. 

Fourth doorway, and then they were running. The familiarity of it — the Ponds at his back, River at his side, and feet thumping against the floor — drove his budding headache away.

Then the library door loomed in front of him, and he paused, taking a moment to examine the schisms forming around him. 

His hand instinctively reached for River’s and she tangled her fingers in his. 

“We need to split up,” he realised. 

“Who?”

“River, with me. Amy, Rory, stick together. Don’t leave each other, and turn right at the stairwell.”

It was more likely than not that they’d forget this. 

“Listen, Amy, turn  right .”

“Hey,” Rory objected. “You know I’m here too, right?”

“What he said!”

“And he’ll be the one to remember,” the Doctor argued. “Right turn, then run like hell.” 

Amy’s eyes flashed a warning at him, but she tore off with Rory in tow. 

“River,” he finally said, stepping in before her, “what’s wrong?”

She tilted her head at him, brushed some of his hair out of his eyes. 

“Spoilers.”

Of course. They’d done this before — he would do it again, rather — and she knew how much it was costing him. She was staying quiet to decomplicate the timeline for him. 

“Thank you.”

She flashed him a smile, and together they ran. They didn’t need to, not really, but he didn’t want her in here for any longer than necessary. 

Oh, he realised dully. This was why the place was burnt down - to get River out. 

“Pass me your gun,” he said. 

“Absolutely not.”

“River....”

“Sweetie.”

There was a smile behind her words, despite the situation. 

“I’m not going to do anything to it!” he insisted. 

“That’s a lie and we both know it.”

He covered his grin with a sigh, pulled out his sonic, and pointed it at her hip. She scowled at him. 

“I’m rearranging,” he said. 

“This is my favourite blaster!”

“And now it can be your favourite flame thrower.”

“Oh. _Oh_ , I like this,” she grinned, serpentine. 

He smiled back, sifting through the dissolving timelines of choices not taken in an attempt to find Amy and Rory again. River shut her mouth again, seeming to realise she’d broken her own self-imposed promise to stay quiet and keep his job easy. 

“They turned right,” he told her, even without the response. 

Gods, the way it was laid out before him, the world would be a far simpler place if River Song kept her mouth shut. 

Far more boring, too. 

He glanced at her again, and she gave him a reassuring smile. 

A possibility flickered into existence in front of him — _River playing the self sacrifice card —_ and the tangibility of the timeline plunged him to a different library, a different spacesuit, and handcuffs digging into his wrist.

He blinked, and it was River with her hand on his wrist, eyes searching. 

He pulled the gun from her holster and started burning the library. 

No library, and that time stream couldn’t exist. 

He may not be able to run from her future, but he could certainly ensure she still had one, at least for the time being. 

Everything seemed to fall into place, in the space of those next twelve seconds of fire, and he knew he’d navigated them onto the right path when Amy and Rory were waiting outside to push the sole unmanned entrance open for them, and the TARDIS hummed her approval from a few metres away. 

He could hear the shouts now, the realisation that the detainees caught snooping around earlier had escaped, that the library was on fire.

He ushered them all into the TARDIS, and then he let the timelines he’d been weaving slip from his head. Instead, he danced, weaving amongst the controls with River. She may be the child of the TARDIS, but he was the Pilot. Together, they flew, and the path was strong and true into the depths of space. 

Amy found him later, tinkering on the lower deck. She sat cross-legged on the floor. 

“What did you do today?”

He’d known this was coming. 

“It’s hard to explain.” He forged onwards before she could object. “It’s called timesense, or at least that’s how I translate it best into English.”

“And it shows you the future?”

“No, it’s more like... all the possibilities. All the likely ones, and more if I look.”

She blinked at him.

“You know when the wind blows up a pile of leaves, and they all spiral in different directions?”

She hummed agreement. 

“It’s like that. I can sense our action, the wind, and I can see all the ways the leaves will blow. Except the wind hasn’t blown yet, and there are infinite leaves, so it’s almost nothing like that at all. Forget the wind.”

“No, I... I think I get it.”

She seemed to consider after that, so the Doctor turned back to the wiring in front of him. 

“Why don’t you do it all the time, then? Get us out of all sorts of things.” 

His hands paused, and he turned fully to her. 

“All of the timelines, Amy,” he said. “All running through my head at once. It’s so much to process, even for me. It takes a lot of focus, and a lot of energy, and it feels like my body is too small for all the endings I can see.”

His breathing was ragged. He wasn’t sure when that had happened. 

“Infinite leaves,” Amy replied slowly, and he nodded. 

“And more than that. Sometimes... I see things I don’t want to see. Consequences I can’t bear, but the possibility is there now, and I know it.”

River, screaming in the library.  Both times, now. The time that had already been, and the time that never was. 

“I’m sorry you needed it today,” Amy said, and squeezed his hand before she left him to his work, wandering in the direction of her bedroom.

His own dreams would not be pleasant that night, he knew, so he instead busied himself once more in the TARDIS wiring. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Personally, this is one of my favourite of the Doctor’s abilities - but of course, the one that costs him the most mentally.


	5. Temperature Resistance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter before River’s turn!!

River scowled out at the howling wind as if it would calm under her glare.   
“It’s snowing,” she said.   
“A great observation as always, Sweetie,” he chirped back at her.   
She sighed a little, but trudged out behind him anyway.  
“Why are we here again?”  
“Ancient ruins! Well, not ancient given that they’re probably being built right now, but all the same,” he said, gesturing wildly. “Ancient!”  
The corners of her lips twitched upwards. She might be freezing right now, but seeing him rant so carelessly was... for lack of a better word, adorable.   
These instants where he trusted her were still her reality. Yes, a few stumbles with his younger self every now and then left her reeling, but they were infrequent enough that she could simply enjoy this moment with him.   
And oh, did he shine.   
Like a star (a rambling, grinning, sappy star, but a star all the same) and she couldn’t help but settle into his orbit.   
“And— are you listening?”   
She flashed a guilty smile, and it was his turn to sigh.   
“Just admiring the view,” she said. He rolled his eyes.  
“Not the view you should be watching, dear,” he said, reaching out and gently turning her face toward the mountain side. “You can have plenty of this view later.”  
She hummed, pressing a kiss to his palm.  
Gods, it really was cold. Before she could remark this to him, he’d grabbed her hand and was pulling her to the crest of the hill.   
She focused on her footfalls, trying not to slip on the rock. Not for the first time, she envied his ridiculous sense of balance. He walked like he was made for the ice, and she stumbled along like a baby elephant.   
Well, this was hardly fair.   
He seemed to sense her lagging, and turned back to her.   
Then he froze entirely.   
“Hello, there,” he said, and River turned to see a humanoid figure approaching, face as white as their surroundings.   
No, there were more than one — four, or five — perhaps half a dozen. She strained to count them all, and suddenly the Doctor’s hand slid into her own.   
“We’re just here for a quick peep at your monument! We really mean no harm at all,” he said as they observed him.  
River itched for a side-arm, then realised her hand was otherwise occupied with the Doctor’s own.   
So _that_ was why he’d grabbed it.   
“You... are not welcome,” the alien nearest them slurred.   
“Sorry, Mr....?”   
Another pause. It was clear to River that they were both as wary as the other.   
“Krallt.”  
“Mr Krallt. Lovely name. We were just leaving, weren’t we, Sweetie?”  
“Yes, about to leave,” she said. They made as if to side step the group, which was something of a difficulty given that they’d been surrounded.   
“You’ve been already?” Krallt’s head titled to the side.   
“Yes, very nice, too,” River tried, but uncertainty flashed across the Doctor’s face even as he nodded.   
The surrounding people - was _people_ the right word? - raised their weapons a little at that.  
“I think that was the wrong answer, dear,” the Doctor observed.   
“Quite,” she agreed, and tightened her grip on his hand.   
“Payment is required,” Krallt said.   
“Of course,” the Doctor fluidly intercepted before River could tell them to shove that idea up their asses. “and what payment is necessary?”  
They seemed to consider, speaking amongst themselves in a quiet, clicking language that the Doctor could probably understand.   
“Of course, yes,” he said, and began shrugging off his jacket. “They want our furs, River.”  
She blinked at him, then looked down at her coat.   
“I hate you,” she said, but she was already pulling it off.   
“No you don’t.”  
They took the clothes and melted away into the snow again, just like that.   
“That’s it?” River muttered.   
“Yes, lovely race, the Scarpi. Not really hostile, just a bit surprised, probably.”  
She’d been able to ignore much of the cold for the past few moments, but now that the immediate danger had gone, it had blasted straight through to her bones.  
She shivered violently enough that the Doctor reached for his jacket to hand it to her.   
His smile faltered when he realised he’d given it away, and they a fair distance from the TARDIS.   
“Well, dear, if you’d wanted me undressed, you could’ve just asked,” she said, to lighten his mood.   
He huffed a laugh, pulling her closer.   
“If I’d wanted you undressed, I would’ve taken more than your coat.”   
That one sent a flash of warmth through her — not enough to stop her shivering again, but something.   
“Back to the TARDIS, River,” he said. It was clear he still wanted to see the monument, but she was relieved he’d made this concession for her.  
She desperately wanted to be warm.   
He unbuttoned his shirt, and River was too cold to protest. When he wrapped River in it, she was blessed with a burst of the body heat that somehow still clung to it.   
He was left in his thin undershirt, and he shivered a little, but barely seemed to blink about the ice that River was quite sure had taken residence in her bone marrow.  
“How are you not freezing?” she gritted out.   
“Gallifreyan biology. Lower body temperature, so I have a lower ideal temperature. Also, we have a far larger range of manageable temperatures than humans. Of course, most of that is on the colder side—“  
He cut himself off as River stumbled a few more steps forward.  
The hands that caught her were not entirely unexpected, but it was a little surprising when the Doctor scooped her up into his arms entirely.   
“I’m not a child,” she huffed, but buried her face into the crook of his neck. He retorted something that she barely even registered as words.   
It felt like gold, like fire, and she sighed a little.   
Being in his arms was becoming a more than regular experience. She wasn’t going to ruin it by complaining.   
Still, by the time the TARDIS was in sight, she was so numb she couldn’t unclench her fingers from where they were tangled in the Doctor’s shirt.   
“Heat us up,” he told the TARDIS when they stepped inside, and didn’t try to put her down.   
Instead, he carried her through hallways she’d rarely walked, and finally emerged into yet another of the TARDIS’s living rooms.   
He deposited her on a sofa, then brought a fire to a roar with just a brush of his hand against the wall.   
His shirt was already drying against her skin, but he gently peeled it off and offered instead a dark hoodie.   
She laughed.   
“Which body of yours wore this, then?”   
“I really don’t think I’ll answer that,” he said, prising off her sodden boots and leggings to slide her into a dry pair. The drowsiness of the room fell atop her like a blanket, and she could only hum appreciatively at him.   
He pulled on a pair of sweatpants, but left his shirt off, and she finally relaxed into the cushions. He was looking after himself, now. They were both okay.   
The dip of the couch beside her brought her swimming back to half-consciousness, but the Doctor simply slid an arm around her.   
She turned into him, as much for the comfort of his presence as she did for his warmth.   
“You okay, Sweetie?”   
She hummed an affirmative and he smiled, one of his hands reaching up to gently stroke her hair.   
She closed her eyes and let the darkness embrace them both. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to make this a little fluffier, because the next chapter is... well. You’ll certainly see.   
> Also: the doctor having a lower ‘ideal’ temperature means he was DEFINITELY too hot in that room at the end but also he’d do it for River


	6. River

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor may save them all from aliens, time and time again, but sometimes she’s the only one who can save him from himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you didn’t want angst I’m sorry

Everything was huge and angry and burning.

He craved sleep, wanted desperately the darkness and nothingness it could provide, but every time he closed his eyes, he remembered. 

900 years had given him a hell of a lot of ghosts for company. 

900? 1000? Was he still so young? It sounded wrong even to him, but he’d lost count. 

He drifted around the TARDIS console room. 

The room was quiet, but his head was so loud.

He wasn’t sure if he’d taken the TARDIS into the vortex at all, or if she’d made that decision for him, but her engines shuddered with the familiar wheeze of landing a moment later. 

He didn’t open the doors, didn’t care where they were. The shields were still down, but he couldn’t bring himself to move to boost them, even not knowing where he was. 

When was the last time he’d known where he was?

There was a thump when his knees hit the floor, a temporary breach of the deafening quiet, and then there was nothing. 

And then there was everything, because he  _remembered_ . 

His people had burnt at his hand, screaming and fighting desperately against him. He’d killed them anyway. 

The hot wetness of blood was a familiar coating on his hands, and his eyes stuttered shut. 

His friends, his family, dying. 

“ _Raggedy man - goodbye_ _._ ”

It was his fault, and he was gasping against the sobs in his throat, gagging with the desperate grief that wracked his frame. 

Beyond that, before that, and his list of beloved dead spread on, each clamouring for his attention, each reminding him of his failures. 

There was a creak of a door opening. He didn’t care — let them come, let them end this. 

Amelia Pond, the girl to whom he’d promised the stars. Rory, the last centurion, from whom he’d stolen life a dozen times over. River, his River, his wife, gone before he even knew her well enough to truly grieve her sacrifice.

There were hands pressing against his own, pulling them from his face.

He wanted to look up, to seek some beautiful distraction from the universe. 

Maybe a destruction, instead. 

How could it matter?

**

She’d stepped into the TARDIS when he hadn’t stepped out of it. 

The box was utterly silent, the usual hummed greeting absent from the air. 

Her doctor, barren with grief, sobbing and half folded in on himself on the floor. 

The breath swept from her lungs all at once, and the smile she was wearing shattered from her face. 

“Sweetie,” she tried, oh so gentle, but he didn’t even twitch in her direction. 

She needed to know where he was in their timeline, how much she could offer him. 

“Doctor,” she said, louder. 

Nothing, except the desperation on his face, and the terror and guilt she could feel radiating from him. 

Damn all spoilers to hell, then. This was her husband, and he was crying, and she wouldn’t just stand there. 

“My love,” she said, again and again as she pulled his fists from his face and hair. He gave no indicator that he recognised her presence at all, instead gasping desperately for air around his tears. 

It was all the confirmation she needed to slide an arm around him, pull him close. 

He struggled against her, for a moment, until some part of him recognised her. River was certain it wasn’t a conscious part - no, all of that seemed lost somewhere deep inside himself. 

She held him, silent, fingers carding through his hair. 

Then there was a shift - a shift so tangible even the TARDIS shuddered a bit, and the Doctor began struggling again, crying out from where he was wrapped in her arms. 

Oh.  _Oh_ . 

She was right in thinking he hadn’t been entirely there, but it was only now she was realising just how far he was.

His huge, beautiful mind - he was remembering, and it didn’t matter what it was, but she knew the extravagant detail in which he would be experiencing whatever plagued him. 

“I’m sorry,” she told him, and prayed it was not something she could not know, prayed again that he’d eventually forgive the intrusion. Then she took a deep breath and slipped into his mind. 

The fires in his head did not burn her even as she wove through them. They were not meant for her, after all. She didn’t recognise the scene around them to be Gallifrey, per se, but she  remembered it somehow.

She’d never seen it before, and yet she remembered. 

It wasn’t a fact she could get too caught up in, because her worry was growing. She had to find him. 

He was technically all around her, in some form of subconsciousness that sent him crashing back to the Gallifrey he had destroyed, but she sought something she could interact with. 

She sought, simply, her lover. 

Slipping deeper into his mind was second nature, and it showed her where he was, curled in the same position as his real body.

All around him, the fields of Gallifrey burnt. 

“Hello Sweetie,” she said, and sat beside him. 

He didn’t answer. Together they waited in the silence, the Doctor still lost in thoughts, even inside his mind. The difference here was that she could see them - the raging fires, the screams of daleks and children, split seconds of her parents, the other companions he had taken. 

She could not watch this - it was his to have, his to tell, and even though he’d forgive her, she may never forgive herself. 

“My love,” she whispered, reaching for him, hands cupping his face, “My love, come back to me.”

He gasped out a little, and the images faded back to the field they’d began in. 

“It’s a little bit hot here, for me,” she lied, eyes fixed solely on him, as if not looking made her invasion any more forgivable. 

The fires closest to them sputtered out into nothingness. 

“Thank you,” she said. The flames may not hurt her, but she couldn’t be sure they offered him the same privilege. He twitched towards her, the slightest of tensing under her palm, and she knew he had acknowledged her in the only way he could at this moment. 

She moved a hand to push a lock of dark hair out of his still shut eyes. 

“They’re all gone. Because of me.”

Her heart surged. 

“Not all of them. I’m here.”

There was a bitter laugh, but he opened his eyes as if to confirm it. 

“River Song,” he said. 

“Yes,” she replied simply. 

“I burnt it all.” There were the demons again, slipping back to consume him in the silences she afforded while she struggled for another way to pull him from his head. 

“Walk with me,” she asked, and when he shook his head, she apologised again before forcibly shifting the landscape around him. 

His subconscious thrashed against the change, but she sent calming hands against it, waves of  _ her _ to let him know it was okay. 

She’d moved the University to meet him here, its towers growing from nothing around them. 

The closest River had ever had to a safe place had been by his side, and she couldn’t risk sending him deeper into himself by bringing up a space they’d shared. It was sound reasoning, even if it felt woefully inadequate to bring him here. 

Stil, he went mostly limp against her, and she held him tight. 

“It hurts,” he finally gasped out.

“I know, my love.”

“They won’t stop.” Desperation lined his voice, so much so that River flinched. It reminded her of the first time he’d seen her in this body, pleading and dying and begging her to help her parents. 

“They will if you come with me.”

_ Can I trust you, River Song? _

He nodded furiously, as if trying to convince himself it was the right thing to do. 

_ If you like.  _

“Hold on,” she whispered, and began pulling them both upwards, out of this place, out of his own head. 

She didn’t dare prompt him into her mind, not when he’s like this, but she brings him to the surface, and slips out again. 

She felt his arms shift around her to return her embrace even in the seconds before she fully blinked back into her own body. 

“River,” he breathed against her neck. 

She wouldn’t apologise, not yet - the time for that will be later, when he’s not been crying in her arms, when it’s her turn to be vulnerable and guilty, and she can kiss a thousand words into his skin. 

But not yet, so instead she held him back tightly, and when he surged towards her with his mind on his own accord, she met him at a surface level. 

They’re still completelyaware of their real bodies, still within them, but the telepathic bond they shared was a glowing thread connecting them. 

_ My love _ , she greeted him, and he sent her gratitude and devotion, in the purest form. 

Worry, love, sincerity, she pulsed back, letting the raw feelings do the speaking. 

He settled against her again, and her hand instinctively returned to his hair. 

_ Thank you.  _

_ You’ve done the same for me .  _

_ Spoilers, sweetie.  _

She sent a thrill of delight down the bond at that. 

_ No, I’m saying you’ve saved me a hundred times before.  _

Confusion, he sent, and she shook her head slightly. 

_ You always come for me, always catch me, always keep me safe from the monsters.  _

He let out a mirthless laugh, aloud, but kept speaking through the bond. 

_And yet I can’t even save me from myself_. 

She paused . 

_ Don’t do yourself discredit, my love. It’s hard for anyone to withstand the oncoming storm. _

His response was to roll his eyes, and she grinned down at him. 

“Hey honey,” he whispered aloud, the faint tracings of a smile ghosting his lips. “I’m home.”

He was still far from okay, they both knew, but he was at least in the present, focused on her, and talking again. 

“I missed you,” River responded truthfully. He hummed against her, face upturned, and caught her lips in his own. 

“Well  _ hello _ , sweetie,” she said when they pulled apart, and his laugh was weak, but it was there. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> River’s own telepathic abilities are not really explored in-show but I think they’re so cool. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! A special thanks to TheDrunkGiraffe for their comments!!
> 
> ALSO: I TAKE REQUESTS PLEASE I WILL BE SO HAPPY

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos give me life. Please, suggestions, criticism, questions - I want to know what you think!


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